


On Talking

by chasingbluefish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Background Wolfstar, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Canon Compliant, Gen, Remus and McG friendship, Snape Bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:41:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22931938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingbluefish/pseuds/chasingbluefish
Summary: Five conversations Remus Lupin and Minerva McGonagall have during Prisoner of Azkaban and one they do not.
Comments: 40
Kudos: 155
Collections: Remus Lupin Fest 2020





	On Talking

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the mods for pulling this off yet again and to everyone who helped me along the way. Huge shout out to my beta because I love you and that you put up with me!
> 
> My prompt is pretty much what was in the summary. The prompter requested five conversations Remus and Minerva had during PoA and one they didn't. I hope I didn't let them down. Thanks in advance for reading!

The knock at his door came as a surprise. After the debacle on the train, Severus’ glaring at him through the welcoming feast, and the fact that he had just completed his last unassisted full moon, Remus wanted nothing more than to sink down into the feather mattress beckoning him from its copper bed frame. Instead, he pulled his robe back over his head and called for his visitor to enter.

McGonagall looked as stately as ever standing in the doorway of his room. In her hand, she held a bottle of Ogden’s Old. 

“Professor, he greeted, arching a brow. She rolled her eyes at the title. 

“Minerva, I’ve told you. We’re peers now, Remus.”

“Of course, apologies. Minerva. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

A small smile quirked the corner of her lips. 

“I wanted to thank you for what you did on the train.”

“There’s no need. Anyone else would have-”

“But there was no one else. There usually isn’t. It was a… fortunate coincidence that you took the train. Potter, well, it’s good that you were there. I dug this out,” she lifted the bottle. “A particularly good age.”

“Who am I to decline?” Remus swept his hand towards the small table and set of chairs in the center of the room and waited for McGonagall to seat herself. As he settled across from her, she conjured a pair of short tumblers and poured them each a measure. 

A fire crackled behind the grate of the fireplace and he stretched his feet out towards it and let the whiskey slide down his throat. She hadn't lied. It was a particularly good year. Not one to be wasted.

“He looks just like them,” he said after a minute, looking down into his glass. “...it was like staring them both in the face.” His eyes were a mixture of pain and wonder.

“He doesn’t just look like them,” McGonagall said fondly. “...he’s got his mother’s wit and his father’s tongue. Plays Quidditch like I haven’t seen in ages. Sarcastic but sincere. He’s about as observant as James was though…”

“Oh gods, no.” Remus found himself chuckling. 

“He’s a good lad. Despite everything he’s been through, he’s managed to thrive.”

“With that beastly family, it’s a wonder.”

At the mention of the Dursleys McGonagall grimaced. “Those… people.” She said the word as though it were a curse. “I’ll tell you that I argued with Albus over it from the start but, well, he was set on his path. There was nothing I could do but wait for him to turn eleven and hope we could free him.”

“But he still returns there in the summers?”

“Unfortunately but the Weasley’s have managed to spring him in the past. I keep an eye on him when I can.”

“It’s more than I’ve done.” Remus sounded ashamed.

“Don’t be stupid. You’ve served him best by staying alive. You’re here now. Now he has someone who knew his parents intimately, someone who can teach him something useful and share memories. That is what he craves above all else. You are a smart man Remus. A kind man. Harry will need you.”

“Yes, but-”

“Did I tell you we sent over a hundred owls?” She cut him off swiftly and he tried to continue but McGongall was ruthless. “That imbecile thought he could just throw away the letter and board up the house.” She refilled each of their cups. “...and so we sent every owl in the owlery, sent every bird in the Hogsmead Post Office.We kept up a daily offensive. At one point they were up to their waists in letters. I saw it myself through the window. They went on vacation to escape.” McGonagall leaned back and took a long, satisfied sip. “ So Albus sent Hagrid.”

“Hagrid?”

“Aye, Hagrid. He even baked Harry a cake. I would have paid good galleons to have seen the look on their faces when Hagrid kicked in that lighthouse door.” 

Remus nearly choked on his Ogden’s. 

“Oh yes. Harry got his letter and Hagrid took him shopping for supplies. Bought him Hedwig, his owl, as a birthday present.”

“Good. I hope Hagrid gave them a good throttling.”

“Well, between us, he gave the son the tail of a pig. Child tried to eat Harry’s cake.”

“Must have been bloody desperate to eat something Hagrid baked.”

They laughed together, warmed by their drink and the fire before them. 

“I have a year to make a difference in his life,” Remus said finally. 

“Only a year?”

“I know the rumours Minerva. The position is cursed. One year.”

“Such a pessimist.”

“I’m a realist.”

“Perhaps you’ll break the curse then.”

Remus snorted. 

“You’ve always been a man who has underestimated himself. Sometimes, I think, on purpose.” She regarded him shrewdly over his drink. “ I believe I said something to that effect during your career assessment meeting.”

“You did. I was right though, wasn’t I?”

“Not entirely. You’ve traveled quite a bit.”

He didn’t bother asking how exactly she knew that. Dumbledore, most likely. He liked to think of them as the ‘after years’. The years following the implosion of his entire world. A few months of aimless existence at home with his parents in some misguided attempt at recovery was enough to drive him across the world. The nature of the work didn’t matter. Sometimes he would be clearing out an infestation of Kappas in Japan only to find himself in Germany doing custodial work at a train station months later. He hadn’t cared. Anything that didn’t remind him of Lily and James, of Peter. Anything that kept him busy and curbed those traitorous thoughts of Sirius from entering his mind. 

“Some countries care less about what I am and more about how blindly I’ll throw myself into solving their problem.”

“Which makes you an excellent candidate for this position. Hagrid informed me that you’d requested the delivery of a few magical creatures for lessons.”

“I did.”

“I approve. One needs hands on experience along with the books. All the books in the world cannot prepare you for staring down an acromantula.”

Remus found himself smiling despite himself.

“I can promise I haven’t one of those up my sleeve.”

“Good to hear.” From within her robes she fished out her pocket watch and flicked it open. “Ah, it’s getting late. I should leave you. First day of classes tomorrow.” As she set the watch back in an inner pocket Remus got to his feet and McGonagall followed. She poured him one final finger in his glass before stoppering the bottle and tucking it under her arm. He walked her to the door and she paused on the threshold. 

“I do not think your decision to return was taken lightly. I know it was not Albus’ first offer and I know why you chose to say yes this time.” 

Remus arched a brow, waiting. “I just want you to know that I am glad you’re here. I always thought you would be a good teacher. Here, or otherwise.” 

A surprising wave of warmth washed over him.

“Thank you Pr-Minerva.”

“Don’t let it go to your head Remus. You’ll have your hands full.” 

Ah, there was the woman he knew. 

\----

  
  


Remus hadn’t expected the summons when he passed outside of McGonagall's open office door and felt a small tug of worry when he peeked in and saw her stern expression. 

“Minerva, hello.” He shut the door behind him and stood, hands in his pockets. 

“A boggart, Remus?”

“Ah, that. Yes. I found it banging about in the staffroom armoire.” 

“I was under the impression you were getting rid of it.”

“I did. Perfect for a lesson I thought. Nothing too challenging. Teaching them to face their fears.” 

“It didn’t occur to you what Harry’s fear might be?” She arched a brow, hands folded on her desk. 

Remus resisted the urge to slump his shoulders. Kept his head high, even. “Not until the lesson started, if I’m honest. I thought it would be good for them. It was, mostly.” A brief smile touched his lips as he remembered Snape climbing out of those doors, resplendent in green velvet and hat. And that handbag… It would be a memory to get him through difficult times. 

“Perhaps just use caution moving forward.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you.” McGonagall looked back down at her parchment and reached for a quill. 

Dismissed then.

Remus turned to leave. 

“Neville Longbottom has had a very hard life.” She spoke up from behind him. Remus paused before looking over his shoulder to find her stern expression gone. Something like fondness danced in the green eyes. “Have a shortbread Lupin.” She pushed the glass bowl of biscuits towards him. 

  
  


\-----

  
  


The staffroom was largely deserted when Remus sank down at the table. Wolfsbane had been a revelation but he still felt as though his bones were rattling about inside his skin, knew he looked as he felt. Joints ached and his temples throbbed. A full day of teaching two days out of the moon had been more exhausting than he had anticipated. Thankfully the staffroom was deserted despite the heaping plates lining the center of the table. His appetite always tripled after a full moon, body desperate to recoup all of the energy expended by the transformation. 

He also didn’t trust himself to dine in the Great Hall after learning of Severus’ teaching material in his absence. Part of him had been naive enough to hope that after all of this time the man would give him a chance to settle into his new role but depth of hatred in Snape’s eyes at the welcome feast had put paid to any notions of civility on the potion master’s part. And yet, to actively seek to expose him was something he had hoped would be something he needn’t contend with.

It made him more tired than the actual physical complications.

The door swung in and he braced himself. McGonagall swept inside and paused upon seeing him seated at the table. 

“Ah, Remus. How are you feeling?” 

“Good. Better.” He had already loaded down his plate with everything on offer but felt strangely self-conscious to dig in. When she took a seat across and a few chairs down he bit back a sigh and began to cut into his roast. “Not dining with the students tonight?” 

“No. I have a feeling the Weasley twins have something planned and I just do not have the energy to try and cut them off at the pass tonight. I’ll deal with the fallout in the morning.” She reached for the carrots and glanced over at him. He avoided her gaze. “Come on, out with it.” McGonagall said shortly.

“I’m sorry?”

“Something’s gotten under your skin and usually you’re adept at brushing things off. So, out with it.” A flagon of wine was sat nearby and she poured herself a goblet before offering it across. As Remus filled his own she helped herself to the rest of the dinner offerings and waited in silence. 

“Severus set them an essay about werewolves in my absence,” he said finally, working hard to keep his words in check. “Which is completely within his right as the substitute, however the subject was more advanced than the students had been currently-”

“Oh stuff it, you’ve always been adept at controlling how you portray yourself. I prefer when you’re candid.”

“...”

“I watched you as boys, and within the order. I know how you feel about each other.”

“I used to feel guilty over the way he was treated. I never stepped in when James and Sirius went after him. I know he had a very difficult upbringing. But so have many others. Harry for example, who is turning into a stellar human being, and yet that man has decided to be malicious and vindictive. If it was only directed at me, I wouldn’t care. I’m used to people hating me. But he lets it bleed into his students. Neville has grown up with his grandmother because his parents were tortured into insanity by death eaters and yet his biggest fear? One of his professors.” Remus shook his head, angry. “He directed a class of  _ thirteen years olds _ to learn how to identify and kill a werewolf. Kill. Just so he can out me. Teaching a group of children to murder.” He realised his knuckles were white around his utensils and he set them down. “That arsehole knows what it feels like to be bullied yet he bullies countless children. Because he can. He should be a place of safety to his students and instead he terrifies them. ”

Silence followed the spill of words and Remus took a breath, and then another, to steady the beat of his heart. 

“How do you feel?” McGonagall finally asked.

“...better,” he found himself answering, surprised. 

“People often do when they get a chance to speak their minds. Best done in private, I find. Or to someone who won’t run about sharing the information.” She took a sip of wine. “There are pros and cons to having Severus here as a professor. Just as there are with everyone.” Her voice was measured when she spoke. “But I will speak with Albus. That essay was completely out of line. Luckily I overheard some young Gryffindors discussing it in the corridor and apparently the entire class has decided to skip it as a form of protest.”

“Have they?” 

“It seems they’ve grown quite fond of their new professor and think ‘Snape can eat shit in a barrel’ if I’m remembering correctly."

Hearing those particular words come out in her swift, no nonsense tone set Remus to giggling and soon McGonagall was smirking too. 

“Of course I cannot condone such language, especially in regards to professors so the students in question will be serving a detention.”

“Yes, of course.”

“However, I do not think you’ll find your job in danger.”

They settled into a comfortable silence which Remus only broke to thank her.

\-----

  
  


“So this is the broom, is it?” Remus stared at the Firebolt laying out across McGonagall’s desk. 

“It is.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I didn’t take you for much of a broom man.”

“I’m not but you couldn’t help but pick up some things with James around. Even if you didn’t want to.”

“Fair point.”

He came closer to the desk and walked halfway around, eyes drawn to the Firebolt the entire time. “Has anyone managed to find any hidden threats?”

“No, it appears to be exactly what it is. A broom.”

“And no idea who sent it?”

“There’s no reason for Black to send Potter a perfectly normal broom. Harry has no memory of him and there’s no way to foster a sense of false hope or safety. Probably just some admirer of his.”

“An admirer?”

“Countless people in the magic community credit him with bringing down Voldemort. Of saving our world. It isn’t completely far fetched to think someone heard about what happened to his broom.”

“And spend a fortune on this and send it without any identification or expectation of correspondence?”

“...” She fixed him with her famous arched brow and sank into her seat. 

“Harry’s gutted about it. He asked me if there was anything I could do to try and convince you to give it back.”

“Not until we’re absolutely sure.”

“Which I told him. I said there were valid concerns and that Hermione was perfectly right to report it.” Remus moved back around the desk and sat in the chair opposite, just as he had back in his student days. A wave of nostalgia crept up on him but he shook it off. “She’s a bright witch. Smarter than most adults I’ve met.”

“Ms.Granger is an extraordinary young woman,” McGonagall agreed, summoning two tea cups and a steaming pot. “And she has Potter’s best interest at heart. So does Weasley.”

“They’re extremely close, those three. On the train, I realised. Some part of me had always worried that Harry might find false friends. People who pretended to be his friends to gain favour or bask in his legend. The relief I felt when I saw how much they cared, how loyal they were…” He could feel her gaze on him as he thought back to those seven years in Hogwarts. Friends. Real, true friends. The first time he had realised what life could be like, that he didn’t have to be alone. 

Except, now, he was. A damned pipe dream. 

“You’ve been very judicious with him.”

“I don’t want to smother him.” Remus sipped at his tea. “ I want to tell him things. I have here and there. But I also want him to form his own opinions. He’s got a hell of a name to live up to and people constantly telling him how like his parents he is. He’s the boy who lived and he’s their child. That’s a constant in his life. I don’t…. I don’t know, I want him to feel like he can trust me, that yes, it matters that he’s the son of my friends, but that it matters more that he’s him. That I care about  _ him _ . Harry, just Harry.” 

“I respect that. It’s a track I wish more would take with him. But surely he’s desperate for anything you can tell him about his parents.”

“I will. In time.”

They finished their tea in quiet, the Firebolt between them. 

“Do you think it’s possible that Sirius Black sent the broom?” McGonagall asked at last.

“I think… it’s a very Sirius kind of gift,” Remus answered after a moment before setting his empty cup down on its saucer. Thoughts of Sirius were never far away. Thoughts he tried hard to banish and never quite succeeded in doing so. “But, as you said, it makes no sense.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “Thank you for the tea, I’ll let Harry know that tests are ongoing on the Firebolt.”

He was halfway to the door when she said his name again. 

“You and Sirius Black were close once.” The words burned in his chest. 

“Yes?”

“Potter’s safety, the safety of those in this school, is paramount. You would tell us if you knew anything that would jeopardize that?”

“Of course.” His reply was quick. It was acid on his tongue but he kept his face neutral, friendly. He’d become adept at lying over the years, a necessity in keeping his condition hidden and mission work during the war. 

Out in the hall he felt that familiar feeling of guilt, of dread. Admitting Sirius’ abilities after so many years would be proof of his betrayal of Dumbledore. He couldn’t bear the thought of facing him and explaining that after the headmaster had done the impossible and managed to find Remus a place in Hogwarts, of giving him everything, that he’d run wild in the woods, a danger to everyone. That his best friends had broken the law and become unregistered animagi so that he wouldn’t be alone. Every time he felt as though he could no longer keep the secret, that he needed to tell him that yes, Sirius had a way he could get into the castle, that yes, he had a theory as to how Sirius had escaped, that yes he had broken that trust placed in him, he would leave his room with determination. And then he would imagine the look of disappointment on Dumbledore’s face. He could see in his mind the exact second those blue eyes would crease in confusion and then pain. The heavy sigh that would follow. And he would stop. Because he couldn’t bear to see it play out in reality. 

Sirius never understood why Remus always trusted the wizard and when Remus would try to explain to him that Dumbledore had given him everything he had, that Dumbledore had staked his very job on getting Remus into Hogwarts, Sirius would snort and say that Dumbledore always did things to help himself in the end. 

It had always been a point of contention between them, one that came up with increasing frequency as the war raged. 

Remus squeezed his eyes shut, one hand on the cold stone of the corridor. Thinking of those conversations, of Sirius with his laughing eyes and quick smile, made his chest squeeze. 

No. He could never tell anyone. It made him a coward but he would bear that burden. 

  
  


\----

  
  


Remus stared at the empty walls of his room. Well, not his, not anymore. And it pained him to see the empty shelves, the tanks without any occupants. The open armoire showed no robes, no scuffed shoes.

“Ah, I’m glad I caught you before Potter. He’s currently telling Albus that Severus should be sacked for what he did. That to let you go is a crime to the student body.” McGonagall appeared in the doorway. 

“He didn’t fire me. I resigned.”

“I know. I tried telling him that but you know Harry, headstrong. Like his house. Like his father.” She came further into the room, reaching back to close the door for privacy.

Remus chuckled.

“I suppose this is what everyone was afraid of happening when I came here as a student. Bit funny how life works out. Apart from the incident in fifth year.”

“No one was hurt,” she said.

“But they could have been. They were. If not by my transformation, by my omittance of the truth. They’re lucky Ron only suffered a broken leg.”

Without asking, McGonagall seated herself in one of the chairs at the table. The same chair she had occupied during the first of the school year. 

‘Putting all of that aside, you were a wonderful teacher.”

“Thank you.” Remus ignored the lump that tried to form in his throat. “But if you’ve come to try and change my mind-”

“I haven’t. I know you can’t stay. Better for you to resign than be fired. No matter how well you taught those children, prejudice would win. Half of our students would be pulled from our halls. Dumbledore would be forced to fire you or be fired himself. And he would never fire you. The Ministry would step in. They might arrest you. It’s unfair. All of it. Bloody ridiculous, but I know this is how things will proceed. You took the choice from Albus. It was the best option.”

“Good. I can’t take a lecture from you and from Harry. I’m sure he’ll demand I stay, that it won’t matter that I’m a werewolf, but we know the truth. It matters. It always has.” He found himself moving to the chair opposite and sitting as well. His bones ached. He was exhausted. 

“Yes. It has. It shouldn’t, but it has.”

“I’m still surprised that I was ever allowed in as a student. Surely there was a riot when Dumbledore suggested it.”

“Not everyone was on board, no.”

“Not even you.” 

“Oh, I wanted you to come. I thought you deserved the chance to be here and to experience life as a normal child.” She crossed one leg over the other, hands resting in her lap. He could sense a deep sadness in her words. “But I worried that the threat to the other students, through no fault of your own, outweighed the benefits. He hadn’t told me his plan and I worried that should your lycanthropy become public knowledge you would be ostracised on a scale yet unknown to you. That if somehow you managed to escape whatever stronghold Albus had rigged up, every student could be in danger. And not only them, but you. And if you survived such an altercation, the guilt would haunt you for the rest of your life. I thought perhaps we could invent some sort of correspondence program, a way for you to get your education without the risk.”

Remus listened in silence, never once trying to interrupt or ask a question. Having found himself opening up to her all year, he felt strangely honoured to have her confide in him instead. Despite the subject.

“And then he went to meet you. But not before revealing his plan with the willow and the shack. In his absence I had time to think and I came to realise that no matter the circumstances you were simply a little boy. A boy who had been the victim of a thing completely outside of your control. You had every right to be here and if any man in the world could make that happen, it would be Albus Dumbledore. Sod the rest. The look on your face that first night, I’ll never forget it. The sheer wonder of it… we can’t always do good Remus. But when we can, we should. And you coming to Hogwarts was a good thing. Then and now.”

“Merlin Minerva,” That lump had come back tenfold and he swallowed around it as he found himself rubbing at his eyes. 

Something touched his other hand where it lay on the table and he looked down to find her clasping it. Something was curled up against her palm and she pressed it into his. 

“He’s been sent far away. Somewhere tropical,” she said.

“Who?” Remus feigned ignorance and McGonagall leveled her patented ‘don’t be a bloody idiot’ glare at him over the rims of her spectacles. 

“...do be discreet. Perhaps choose a long distance owl. Or a bird better suited for travel.”

He opened his mouth to speak but changed his mind. How she knew, he hadn’t the faintest idea.

“Goodbye Remus. I suspect we will be seeing more of each other with the way things are going. Voldemort’s followers are beginning to stick their heads out of their hidey-holes.”

“It’s been a pleasure Minerva.” 

He felt her squeeze his hand and then release it, leaving behind a small, folded, piece of parchment. 

And then she was up and gone. No hugs, no tears. Well, barely any. 

He sat still, heart thudding against his ribs and waited a beat before turning the paper over and opening it. Inside was scrawled a very specific address for a remote beach shack under a crooked palm tree on an island thousands of miles away. He recognised Sirius’ handwriting and felt the first bead of hope that he’d had in a long, long time.


End file.
